Salinas’ glare bounced off Liz like a pebble off a steel plate. After a moment, he broke eye contact with her and looked to his fellow males for support.
No use. The contest of wills between her chest and his potbelly was a rout. None of the other men so much as glanced at him.
His shoulders slumped. The belt sighed with relief.
That little sound finally tore Jerry’s gaze away from Liz. Startled, he saw a tiny little figure—a leather sprite, perhaps—clambering out of the belt buckle and leaping to the deck. The sprite, casting an angry backward glance at Salinas, darted toward Lamont and vanished into one of his shoes. Lamont, still staring at Liz, never noticed. But, moments later, his feet shifted a little—as if the heavy work shoes had suddenly become lighter and more comfortable.
* * *
Up on the beach, the driftwood was stacked. It was also damp. So, after the encounters with Charybdis and running before the storm off Thrinicia, was the tinder. The grumbling from the Achaeans needed no translating.
Lamont nudged Jerry. “Time for a bit more of the sorceress spells. Fire-making, Dr. De Beer.”
Liz looked uncomfortable. “I’ve got a lighter. It smells like mothballs, but it is working . . . but my fires always go out.”
Jerry regarded her intently. “Mothballs . . . naphtha . . . Greek fire—something that was certainly known in ancient times . . . I think I’m beginning to get the ‘rules’ in this place. How are you on fires, Lamont? Or you Sergeant . . . Corporal . . . anybody except me?”
McKenna grinned. “I’ll do it, sir. My brother and me, we spent half our time on the farm making fires. We also carry waterproof matches as part of our gear.”
It was something of a shock to him to discover that his waterproof matches were about as useful and effective as his rifle had been. But Jim McKenna wasn’t that easily stopped. “Just lend me the lighter. You wouldn’t have a couple of sheets of paper in your bag, would you?”
“I think we should start calling that thing ‘cornucopia,’ ” said Jerry.
“My ex-husband called it ‘lethal weapon,’ ” said Liz pointedly. “Here, Corporal. And you get two pages of my diary, too.”
“We’d better go easy on our modern stuff,” cautioned Lamont. “We may need it later.”
Liz shook her head. “We may need it just to get through tonight first. Come, Jerry. We’d better go and put on a show while the corporal does the work. We can do inventory later. Right now it is time for you to get inventive with your translations.”
Liz put on a fine display of impromptu yodeling and turning and bowing while McKenna carefully built a little pyramid of shaved splinters around the paper balls. Fortunately his pyromaniac youth didn’t fail them. The Achaeans were suitably impressed. Jerry obligingly didn’t translate the gist of the admiring comments about McKenna’s body. If he’d understood what they were saying, he’d never have knelt down to blow the fire.
* * *
Anibal Cruz stared at the firelight. The flames trailed green from the salt in the driftwood, reflecting on the dark water of the bay. The cliffs were a dark frame to a sky full of stars. Stars. Stars shone down in countless numbers, in a sky as clear as a virgin’s conscience. The sheltered cove echoed with cheerful voices. Yeah. Trouble for sure—even if the cheerful voices hadn’t been speaking ancient Greek. If all those clay things held wine . . .
The party of snatchees sat some distance from the fire, listening to the little guy with the wild hair. The—what did he call himself?—mythographer. Anibal fished out a set of poker dice. At least they hadn’t changed into anything. The ration packs’ containers had . . . altered. Changed into paper-like stuff and bone and leather . . . and broken. The mess in his rucksack really pissed him off, besides making them short of food. Some of it had got onto the set of pics he’d thrust in there. They weren’t photographs from that trip to Vegas any more. They were paintings. And in several cases, ruined paintings. But his dice were okay. He hadn’t been anywhere without them for ten years. Even had them in Saudi. Over the years there’d even been some people foolish enough to play with him.